This And That
by messengercat
Summary: Of champions, chaos and caffeinated drinks.
1. The Owl And The Raven

_A/N._ Because I walked out of that cinema (twice) with a plot bunny gnawing on my brain that would not cease and desist and thus had to be written. The name 'Underland' might just have been what cinched it for me, Underland... Underground... The names were far too similar for my muses not latch onto, that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. As of right now this may stay a oneshot, just as it is, but I am playing with making it longer, seeing if it has any chance of working or not simply because it could be rather a lot of fun.

_Disclaimer:_ Don't own them. Never have, never will, just borrowing the characters.

**The Owl And The Raven**

It had been many years since he'd been here, since he had been allowed to cross the border even if he'd had the time to, advisors advising against getting involved in another war when his own kingdom was still recovering and being rebuilt, the unsaid but always implied while _he_ was still recovering and rebuilding himself. Yet he had kept a sharp eye on the situation, eyes and ears where usual monarchs would have none, knowing more therefore than most and knowing it was safe when others were still cautious despite the official statements from the queen. This trip, however, was off the record, no one to accompany him across the deserts to the war torn lands, and so he had flown, gliding fast and free, taking days off of an otherwise much longer journey.

Once he was past the desert though he landed, choosing to go the rest of the way on foot, staring in a sick familiar wonder at the ruined country he passed through, the burnt and the broken and every once in a while a sign of life, greenery poking cautiously from the wreckage. All was not lost and given time it would be as he remembered it and he found himself looking forward to such a time as he continued to walk, letting his feet lead him, not quite realising until he stepped out into the open where he had been walking to. Not his intended destination of the palace but another place that had seen better, brighter days. He almost didn't recognise it. He almost thought it abandoned until his eyes settled on the occupied seat at the far end of the table.

Maybe he should have kept walking, but he didn't, choosing instead to take a seat to the left. Never the right; that seat was reserved.

The polite and expected inquiry came before he'd had a chance to even say hello: "Tea?"

"Thank you."

He took the cup that he was offered with grace, frowning when he realised it was empty and placed it back on the table, clearing a space to rest his elbows as he counted how many things were wrong with the current picture. From his empty mug to the other's full yet cold one, the lack of laughter, of the twitching hare and boisterous dormouse, of things being thrown when asked for instead of passed politely. Usually they served nothing but the best in drinks, food and company. Everything that made the once-garden the garden was missing, all but the ringleader missing and he had to wonder how long it had been this way.

"Champions never stay long, do they? Not even long enough for a proper celebration."

"Sometimes they just choose to celebrate elsewhere."

He'd nearly finished that sentence differently, remembering looking through a closed and locked window: _Sometimes they just choose to celebrate without you_.

"It's just not proper, do they not think that their services may yet be needed?"

Glancing around at the half-dead woodland and seeing the ruins of a castle he couldn't help but agree, "They should fix what is broken."

"But it is fixed now, and that is why they do not stay, but can't they see if it is fixed then there is nothing left to do and what is fixed is good, a good place to be, is it not?"

"It is where they belong."

"Then why go back to that dreary place above?"

Dragging his gaze back from the woods to his host he saw the lie in his eyes. The man knew full well why the queen's champion had returned home, but like anyone else the truth was it still hurt like hell to be left behind.

"At least you were on the same side."

Maybe he hadn't meant to say it, or maybe he had, too much at ease in the once-garden he had visited so many times before. He didn't know anymore. But it got a reaction, his companion's head jerking up, a look of surprise and confusion flickering across his features as if seeing for the first time with whom he was speaking.

"Oh," he said simply, blinking, and his voice softened again as the words actually sunk in, "Oh, I see." There was a pause, and then perhaps for lack of anything better to say, "Tea?"

He gestured to the empty cup he had been handed previously, "Only if you actually mean it this time."

His host stared at the offending crockery for a moment before snatching it away, tossing it aside, busying himself with the simple work of serving a replacement which was both full and hot, speaking disjointedly between his actions.

"I do apologise; I do seem to have quite lost my mind of late. I don't suppose you've seen it anywhere have you?"

Sipping the fresh tea, relishing the subtle taste he had been unable to find anywhere else, he replied dryly, "You never had a mind to lose in the first place, Hightopp."

There was a snatch of something quite different, sharper and more real, as he snapped back with uncanny speed, "And the same to you, you feather-brained kook."

He smiled over the rim of his cup, giving an almost indiscernible nod, "Better. So, why are you not in court with the others now everything has been fixed?"

"I'm waiting for her, you see she said she'd be back, but she is always late. That's why the tea's gone cold, you know."

"I know. I always had the opposite problem, always too early, taking half the time she should have even with time taken away."

"How unfair."

The words made him smile again if for different reasons, "Truly."

"Early or late, never on time and ne'er a wit of concern for those left waiting."

He was losing him again, eyes growing distant, caught in what ifs and when. It was one thing to be lost in those, another to live in them.

"If she said she will be back then she will, one just has to remember that time runs differently between here and there, hours and days mean naught, and neither do the months nor the years. If she said she will be back then in due time she shall be."

"You can change time, can you not? So, why do you not just make it so?"

"You already know why, and," he sighed and shook his head, hating the admittance of his own failure. "For me it makes no difference."

There was another moment's silence, and then: "You were turned down flat."

He resisted the urge to flinch, "Yes, and yet I still wait in foolish hope, so believe me when I say you have nothing to worry about, your little girl will be back before you know it."

"No hope is foolish, and I happen to have been told quite recently by a very reliable source that to be a fool makes one a whole heartedly better individual."

He raised an eyebrow at that, taking in the perfect sanity in the heart of the madness, and raised his cup as well, "Then we must be the best of them all by far."

The clink of china and silence that followed was thoughtful and companionable, different and familiar as they thought on champions, chaos and caffeinated drinks. He knew he was late, but it didn't seem to matter, time of little consequence in this garden outside of everything yet so intrinsically connected to it all. So he stayed until the tea was gone, declining the offer of more and pushed his chair back from the table, dusting himself down.

"Are you coming?"

"No."

He had expected as much, but he had to ask nonetheless, "Good luck."

"She'll be back you know."

"Of course, she said she would, did she not?"

"No, not Alice; Sarah."

He stopped, turned and stared at the Hatter, eyes clear as crystal beneath the brim of his ever-present hat, a grin as wide as that of Chessur and possibly just as all-knowing. He had never given the name of the Labyrinth's champion, not wanting the people to know who had beaten the kingdom's greatest challenge. Not wanting her to be used.

"How-?"

"A man with a bird on his head came by a few weeks ago, said you'd be passing through, said to pass the message on, something about costume jewellery payments. She'll be wanting it back when she realises what it means." There was a flicker of silver or gold, a lost keepsake, gone again in a flash, hidden in a jacket pocket. "Until then…for safe keeping…"

The Goblin King might have laughed if he wasn't so sure he should be ringing the necks of both Wiseman and his hat as he turned to leave again.

"Oh, and one more thing…"

Pausing once more, "Dare I even ask?"

The Hatter smirked, a touch of mischief returning for the first time since he'd sat down at the table, "Why _is_ a raven like a writing desk, old friend?"

Laughing, Jareth waved and continued walking, calling back over his shoulder in taunt, "It isn't, Tarrant, I just wondered how long you would continue to ponder it."

He ducked on instinct as the empty china cup sailed over his head, crashing harmlessly to the ground and he knew the mad old coot would be just fine, and maybe, just maybe he'd take a trip Above and see this Alice for himself, this Alice who sounded in so many ways so similar and yet so different from his Sarah.

But in the meantime he was here to see the White Queen, so see her he would, walking the whole way and knowing the Hatter wouldn't be far behind him once he realised that time could still be filled with useful things, he flexed his fingers and called a crystal, like hunting down the Wiseman and finding out just what it was Sarah had left in his Labyrinth and thus in his care.

After all, just because one chapter had ended it didn't mean the story was over.


	2. Textbooks And High Tea

_A/N._ Okay, I must admit the overall plot is still elusive but this is fun to write so I am going to just write it and see what happens, meaning updates will most likely be scatty at best, so apologies in advance for that. As for this chapter, the first part was orginally going to be the opening of the Labyrinth fic before crossover happened and the second part was in fulfillment something of a frequent-comment-turned-dare and was supposed to be a oneshot in and of its own right, explanations are present regarding his presence but they may be tricky to spot. Many thanks should be given to my good friend j_mercuryuk for the characterisation help. And, one last note on my choices, I've gone for Karen as Sarah's stepmother because that's the one I grew up hearing most frequently - I was very confused at the mention of an Irene when I first read the manga - and I have gone for the spelling of Alice's last name as 'Kingsley' as opposed to 'Kingsleigh' since the former simply looks better in my mind.

_Disclaimer:_ Don't own them. Never have, never will, just borrowing the characters.

**Textbooks And High Tea**

Sitting quietly in her room working on another essay, pulling apart the words and worlds of another author Sarah's mind wandered, surrounded by the clutter of textbooks and trinkets she'd collected over the years, everything laid out in a perfectly organised form chaos. Toby always joked that her apartment was a maze, and maybe to his young mind it was with her haphazard towers of books and mismatched furniture, Karen on the other hand just sighed and fixed her with the same withering look she'd done when Sarah was younger and refused to tidy her room, stating that some things never changed. Still, she knew where everything was, that was all that mattered. The place was a cheap, rented thing, but it was hers and so much more preferable to the accommodation her university had offered. She still got strange looks when she told people what her course was, and part of her enjoyed the reactions, but she had to admit she didn't know anyone else who took both literature and law. Her father just said she was unique, and she took that as a compliment.

Reaching across the desk for the thick tome of poetry she was using as reference she once again knocked the statue that had sat in the same place on her desk for years, the one that had travelled with her from home, and she knew she should move it elsewhere so it would not get in the way so much, but she liked him where he sat, watching over her work, ensuring she felt guilty if she neglected an essay, report or case study for too long.

"Sorry, Jareth," she muttered, absently setting the statue of the flamboyant Goblin King straight again, picking up her pen and opening the book, skimming through the lines of nonsense for the exact phrase she was after.

And it was there she stopped, halfway through a piece about what was essentially a kidnapping and murder case dressed up as a children's story, with two thoughts in her mind. One, that she had been studying far too many court cases lately, but two, that she also has a most curious and possibly dangerous piece of information in her hands and had done for years without realising it as she stared at the statue she'd addressed so casually. Unknown, that was, until now.

She had assumed the Goblin King was Fae what with all magic and trickery and fantastical creatures of the Labyrinth, she had assumed it because it just made sense. But now she wasn't so sure, all for one very simple reason: she knew his name. In the tale she was studying now no one except the main character had an actual real name and she'd been following up during the week possible reasons behind it, her research taking her back to myths and legends, leading her to create the idea that the characters could represent other identities, laughing to herself in the library as she cast the rabbit as a will-o'-the-wisp. Her research had repeated some theories multiple times, people disagreed on many points but there were some that seemed unanimous, and the fact that the fae never gave their name to anyone was one such theory because words were power, names doubly so.

That gave rise now to one very simple and very worrying question: Why did she, defeater of his Labyrinth, know the King's name? It struck her as foolish, stupid even, to give such power to someone who had done as much damage as her. Had it been intentional?

She tried to remember if she had heard anyone except Hoggle use his name, either while she had been running the Labyrinth or since. She couldn't. Had it been a slip of the tongue then? But then why would Hoggle know his name either? The King clearly hadn't held her friend in very high regard, so why give him such power?

All thoughts of high tea and treason fled her mind as she slammed the poetry book shut, shoving it, her essay and her annotated text aside, grabbing her notebook and flipping through it, searching for her material on folk tales as she rapped on the glass mirror, calling her friend. She wanted answers and she wanted them now.

"Hoggle? Are you there? I need a word."

The mirror remained the same, silence her only reply.

"Of all the times to be busy," she sighed, irritated, but not with Hoggle, more with herself for having taken so long to realise how strange her situation truly was considering how much she prized herself on her knowledge of all things fantastical.

Turning her attention back to the statue she stared at it, actually studying it for the first time in years, noting all the inaccuracies that came with mass production, and shook her head, "What are you playing at this time-?"

She stopped herself before adding his name to the end of the question, making note to be more careful in the future, not knowing what effect, if any, it would have as she continued searching, waiting for Hoggle to get back from wherever he had gone, not thinking Ludo would know and quite certain that Didymus would be an exception to the rule anyway given his greater standing in the King's strange court.

No, it was Hoggle she needed to speak to no matter how much he would dislike the topic of conversation.

Suppressing a shiver Sarah tried not to think how wrong everything could go, or may have already gone, if the Goblin King found out about her stolen knowledge. It was not something she wished to think about.

* * *

A whole other world away a young woman adjusted her skirts, sitting down to afternoon tea away from the hubbub and pandemonium of the marketplace outside, making another notation in her journal. China was a strange country but she was fond of the strange and out-of-the-ordinary taking the time to enjoy the exotic peculiarities that came with her apprenticeship, waiting for a man she was hoping to be able to do business with, however, he was late and so she had taken the opportunity to order herself tea at the small teahouse they had passed so many times, watching the world go by.

The current subject of her observations, however, was the man at the table next to hers, seemingly asleep, an old tricorne hat pulled down over his eyes. He looked perfectly comfortable if even more out of place than she did as she put down her pen and picked up her cup, continuing to study him over the top of it, trying to decide why it was no one else seemed to give him a second glance.

"If you have something to say, darlin', just say it."

She jumped, not having expected him to respond to her attention, "I'm sorry, I was just curious as to who you were."

"Oh?" He tipped the hat back and grinned, yet the first thing she noted was that his eyes were lined with kohl and oddly ageless. A seaman then, yet not an official one; no one she had met so far on her travels dressed as he did. He also spoke without the local accent she had grown accustomed to hearing, but at the same time his speech was odd, out of place in modern times. Yes, she was very curious about this stranger, drawn to something which was distinctly familiar if rougher about his mannerisms.

"Yes," she replied honestly, holding her head high, the picture of outspoken high society.

To that he laughed, amused by some joke no one else was privy to, "There's always one that ain't scared."

"What, may I ask, is that supposed to mean?"

"You seem somewhat familiar, your last name ain't by any chance 'Turner' is it, girl?"

Perhaps she should have been offended that he had not properly answered her question but she replied politely, "No, my name is Alice Kingsley; I am an apprentice to Lord Ascot's company. I am here on business."

"Ah, the trading ships."

"Yes," she paused, and then added, "And yourself?"

"You could say I'm in the same business."

"Could?" she echoed.

"Times are sure a-changing if they're letting women on board these days, right?" he continued, waving a hand, addressing the empty seat opposite him, "Then again, maybe the world is smaller, or we're just older and bigger so it seems smaller. What do you think?" He paused, staring at his own hand. "We are rather old now you know…"

Alice laughed and the stranger shot her a confused look, as if just remembering she was there.

"What's wrong with that?"

"No, nothing at all," she smiled, placing her cup down just so on the table. "You just remind me of someone."

"It wasn't a eunuch was it? I meet one once, must say it wasn't quite what I was expecting, then again same could be said for that entire day thinking about it…" he said, a wary note working its way into his voice, hand dropping below the table, out of her line of sight.

"Oh no, at least I would assume not, he was completely mad."

She kept a perfectly straight face, never breaking eye contact as she watched the caution give way to relief again as his mind went over and over her words, trying to find the fault with them.

"Then he must have been the best if you think me and him are alike." He gave a final grin, pushing his chair away from the table and performed an over-exaggerated sweeping bow, making sure his hat was firmly on his head, tossing knotted braids back over his shoulder and pointing a ringed finger at her, "I like you, lass, so I'll be sure to let your lot through safe, now, if you'll excuse me; I've a ship to commandeer." He paused, grimaced, "Again."

"Quite, quite mad," she concluded with a touch of fondness, watching him leave, disappearing from view, and realised belatedly that after all that she still did not have the stranger's name. Still, maybe someone would be able to tell her later; he seemed the sort that people would remember, someone would have to know. Until then, however, she wrote down the name of the tea in her book so she would not forget to mention its merits and possibilities to Lord Ascot in her next letter, letting the incomprehensible voices of the crowd wash over her, humming to herself an unknown tune she'd heard on the docks.

Yes, the stranger without a name was awfully familiar, but… She put her pen down again and stared out the window, her brow creased in frustration, she could not for the life of her recall who it was he reminded her of, not exactly. She was still pondering the impossible fact of the person she did but did not know and knew she should know and did know and it was there and she could remember it but not quite, like a dream she had almost forgotten but knew she should not, when the man she had been waiting for in the first place arrived.

Her tea had gone cold.

"It always goes cold," she muttered to herself, shaking her head. Still, there was no time for such things now; she had work to do.


	3. White Marble And Sugar Cubes

_A/N._ Back to Jareth again. Parts of this chapter I didn't know were going to happen until they were on the page of my notebook. Then I just looked back at it all and went, huh, okay, let's just run with it. Hopefully there shall be more Hatter next chapter, once he'll actually sit down and tell me what and who are going into that scene.

_Disclaimer:_ Don't own them. Never have, never will, just borrowing the characters.

**White Marble And Sugar Cubes**

The white marble of Marmoreal was blinding in the sunlight, and Jareth was almost certain it was not purely for aesthetical purposes, shielding his eyes as he continued to walk towards the main palace, feeling his way more than seeing, hoping that the fair White Queen had not seen fit to alter the paths again.

As it was though not only had the paths not changed, but it seemed as if nothing had changed, remaining instead frozen in time while the world outside had fallen down. Within the walls of Marmoreal nothing was any different from his last visit many years prior, everything was the same, right down to the bloodhound sitting on the steps, waiting. He half expected to turn and see the court milliner sitting under the tree teaching her apprentice more valuable tricks of the trade while McTwisp fretted over one thing or another that in the end would be of little consequence. The silly rabbit had been such fun to wind up.

The courtyard was empty though, no milliner, no rabbit and no troublemakers to ruin the hush, just one bloodhound who showed signs now of age that he had not in those past times, sleeping on the job even.

It was tempting to try and make the poor guy jump. After all, he was yet to get one over on Underland's sharpest nose, sneak up on him and surprise him, but the thought of a possible, final, victory was quickly discarded as Bayard opened one eye, fixing the monarch with a look he knew all too well, "Do not even think about it, Jareth."

"Spoil sport."

The bloodhound chose to ignore the childish retort, settling instead for stating the obvious: "You're late; Mirana is waiting in the tea room."

"Then I had best not keep the queen waiting any longer."

He bid Bayard farewell, letting him settle down to sleep, perhaps for real now in these more peaceful times. Yet, he could not help but think that if Bayard was still on guard duty then the queen was not as sure of her peace as the declarations proclaimed. It was a thought that made him all the more wary as he made his way through the palace, keeping an eye out for any other signs of discord no matter how small they may be, treading the familiar path to the tea room that looked out over the gardens, the queen's second favourite spot after the gardens themselves. At least that was what she said.

He found no other hints of danger in his travels, so either White Queen had hidden them well or he was jumping at shadows – a trick surely best left to the March Hare. However, the feeling could not be shaken as easily that, pushing open the door with thoughts of Tarrant and Bayard still prominent in his mind putting him on edge.

It took the Goblin King a moment, standing in the doorway of the large round room, to realise what he was seeing.

The White Queen was sat in her usual place by the window that had been left open to let in the gentle afternoon breeze, a fine bone china cup held delicately in one hand.

"Jareth," she greeted him, smiling, and her voice full of warmth. "You made it."

Across from the queen however was sat someone else, two someones if he was being accurate.

"About time too," Wiseman's hat chipped in, "The tea's gone cold!"

He shot the hat a dirty look before shutting the door and taking a seat, "Thank you, but I have already had tea."

"Your loss," was the quick, fully expected and completely ignored response.

The queen hid a brief smile behind her cup at the exchange, then, addressing the Goblin King returned to business, "Not that it is not good to see you again, but what brings you to Marmoreal?"

Feigning a hurt look he replied, "Can it not be I just wished for the pleasure of your company, dear Mirana?"

"You tend not to actively seek my company unless there is something you need, Jareth."

He gave his most charming and disarming smile even as his words betrayed his intent, "Reassurance then, that the decrees are true."

"Do you not trust my word?"

"Yours, yes, the word of the travelling mongrels of your sister's court not so."

He chose to give as much attention to her disapproving frown as he had the Wiseman and his hat.

"Their word is true. The Jabberwocky has been defeated and Iracebeth and the Knave of Hearts have been banished to the Outlands to be shown no kindness."

"I did not think you had it in you." He paused, thinking on his words before voicing them again. "Or, more, I did not think you would be able to follow through; you know as well as I how unforgiving the Outlands are."

"Yet you and your subjects continue to cross them."

She, in turn, had ignored his implications regarding her sister's likely fate at the hand of the desert elements. The thought was not one that settled well with him and his eyes drifted past her shoulder to the garden path behind, perhaps half hoping to see his friend ambling down it.

"And just look what has become of us," he glanced back at Wiseman and his hat, the former a gnarled, sleeping old man while the other was a bird that spoke too much, neither having any inclination towards anything resembling common sense. "And, speaking of my subjects," his voice took on a decidedly polite yet ice tone as he stared at the pair, quietly glad of the distraction. "Would you care to tell me what The Girl left behind?"

"The Girl?" the hat replied, faking innocence, albeit badly. "Which girl is that? We've seen many, Majesty."

The Wiseman began to snore and the White Queen returned to her rapidly cooling tea, watching the proceedings with barely concealed amusement.

"You know full well which girl, now what did she leave in you clearly less than capable care?"

"Just a contribution; no one works for free you know, not even him."

"And where is that contribution now?"

If it was possible for a being without shoulders to shrug then that was the only response Jareth received to his inquiry.

However, he had a very simply and often effective reply to that which he could use in turn: "Bog of Eternal Stench."

A cough caught both their attention, Wiseman's ancient bones creaking as he moved, blinking slowly at the two monarchs across the table from him as if trying to focus on what he was seeing.

"Time," he began slowly, the room falling silent as he spoke, "will tell."

Those were not the words Jareth had hoped to hear. Maybe he had been hoping for a nice simple handing over of the object in question, but then he was dealing with Wiseman so that had been unlikely from the start really, no matter how nice it would have been. This was even less welcome than the empty cup Tarrant had presented him with a few hours earlier, because everyone knew that the Wiseman's words had to be taken literally. Trying to understand them any other way simply did not work. Wiseman was as practical and blunt as he was measured and decrepit, confusing many runners over the years who assumed he was speaking in riddles. Riddles were the Hatter's forte, not the Wiseman's.

He sighed and asked the question he knew needed asking, no matter how tired the idea of it made him feel, "And what is Time doing with Sarah's belongings?"

"I do not know if that is what he meant," Mirana spoke up, her voice as calm as Jareth's was irritated, "Only that He can tell you where it is."

"That is still useless and–"

The Goblin King stopped himself before adding 'impossible', knowing that such concepts had no more place in Marmoreal than they did his own Labyrinth.

"It remains your choice, but…"

"Yes, I know."

Some would have found it strange for the king to be so reluctant to face a challenge, however, he was all too aware of what had happened the last time he and Time had crossed paths even if they were not.

He looked back at the Wiseman and his hat, the latter returning an incredibly bored gaze.

"Thank you," the king said smartly, picking up two sugar cubes from the dish on the table and depositing them in the ever present collection box the Wiseman carried, "for nothing."

"Same to you, Majesty," the hat answered back.

Wiseman's only response was to begin to snore again.

Jareth rolled his eyes, "Useless." Then, turning his attention back to the White Queen gave a wry smile, "It seems I must be on my way once more, I am glad to see that you are doing well."

"Good luck, Jareth," she replied, inclining her head and placing her cup down on the saucer. "Hopefully next time you are here it shall be for a longer visit?"

"I hope so, it has been too long," Jareth agreed, rising from the table and once again dusting himself down however useless a gesture it was, adding in a conversational tone, "I assume Hightopp shall be back at court soon."

Mirana's face split into a wide, relieved smile, "Thank you, Jareth."

"I did not do a thing, I merely stopped by for a cup of tea; no one else serves tea quite like it and I was in need of a drink after the long flight."

Excuses, all of it, and they both knew it, but appearance was everything even if there was no one around to witness it, and with no further reason to stay and more reasons to depart, the King of the Goblin's took his leave of the White Queen and her strange choice of company.

"Why did you not tell him?" she asked finally, watching the king walk back down the garden path and disappear between the trees.

"Because he never learns," the hat replied simply, "None of them do, they're a bunch of idiots, titles or no."

The queen laughed in spite of herself, knowing that if Jareth had heard them say such a thing then, well respected or otherwise and regardless of company, the hat, and consequently the Wiseman as well, would have found themselves hanging by their ankles for the insult. Some boys just never grew up.

She picked up the ring which had sat so innocently unnoticed on the white cloth beside her, turning it over in her hand and holding it up to the light, watching the sun reflect off the piece of cheep costume jewellery. It was not a piece of their world anymore than the pendent that had been found in the Room of Doors was theirs, yet it was a pretty little piece nonetheless.

"It's just for safekeeping," she said to no one in particular, tucking the trinket away, returning to her tea and thoughts of the retuning Hatter, "Nothing more."


	4. Curiosity And Dead Ends

_A/N._ So, firstly, I appologise for the extended delay; I was finishing up university - I am now free of the dratted place forever - and being hit round the head by two other wips I have for another fandom not to mention the original fiction bug on top of that. Great timing, self. But, I am back with an offering of Hatter. Hopefully the next chapter won't take quite as long.

_Disclaimer:_ Don't own them. Never have, never will, just borrowing the characters.

**Curiosity And Dead Ends**

"You know," a cultured voice drawled from behind him, "for someone who so dislikes it when others are not on time, you are running quite late yourself."

"Hello Chessur," Tarrant replied, one hand reaching instinctively for his hat, dare the cat try and pilfer it from his very head as he ambled along the path, content to continue on at his own pace, to take the time to view the land and the changes that had begun to occur in the few short weeks since the Red Queen's defeat. Everything looked and sounded less wilted, less crunchy bracken and briar and more bubbly green and spring like. "And I am not late."

"If you say so, though I am sure the Hare would be inclined to disagree with you on that point."

He tilted his head to one side, catching a glimpse of the blue striped cat floating beside him, thoughts of shrubbery being replaced by a far more interesting inquiry, "You've spoken to Thackery?"

"Not personally, though judging from the ruckus I have heard I would assume he is still working in the Queen's kitchen, something about salty soup and Battenberg."

"He does make the best pastries, even if half of them do end up on the ground instead of the plate; he and Mally do like to throw them. Such a waste…" He trailed off, recalling the last great pastry fight between the two. It had been half in celebration of Mirana regaining the throne that was so rightfully hers, half due to a misheard request for more cream and half because of some foolish slip of the tongue that had been taken the wrong way. The maths had worked out quite nicely, but the sentiment was there and it brought another thought to mind, "What of the little dormouse?"

"One would assume that she is at the palace as well," Chessur rolled away and vanished from sight, reappearing a few feet further down the path. "Surely though, I did not think it was my job to keep track of your friends, Tarrant."

"Really," Tarrant replied, though exactly which statement he was replying to was anyone's guess and he did not choose to elaborate.

"We do need to be going, you know," the cat continued, winding his way through the trees, always at least partly within sight of the milliner.

The Hatter absently followed him along his meandering path, murmuring greetings to the flowers and trees, some answering back, some not, and he didn't seem to mind either way, until he stopped again, the cat's words finally catching up with him, and he asked, "We?"

The sigh was patient yet frustrated with the further delay, "It happens that I too am paying our dear Queen a visit, that's all."

It was reasonable enough reason, Tarrant admitted, though it did bring to mind yet another question which he was quick to voice, "Why?"

"Curiosity."

The Hatter sniggered.

"You would be too if you had spent less time bemoaning the fact that Alice chose familial duty over you and actually listened." By this point the Hatter had stopped laughing and Chessur was growing increasingly fond of the fact that he could evaporate given the look in milliner's narrowing eyes. However, the words needed saying and if no one else would tell him then Chessur would, continuing on in a conversational tone, "Have you heard anything of the Red Queen or Knave?"

"They were banished, why would I've heard anything else of them, you mangy cat."

It was a statement, a very dry one at that, but Chessur smiled, sure to keep a good distance between himself and the Hatter he had irritated and insulted, "Exactly, no one has heard so much as a single word regarding either of them. Most strange that no one has seen fit to report their glorious deaths in the Outlands or attempts at sanctuary in the kingdoms beyond, not even McTwisp has head a whisper of their whereabouts. Why, they seem to have simply vanished into thin air."

The words were illustrated with a purposeful disappearing act by the cat, only his voice remaining, hanging in the air as a courteous farewell and afterthought, "Most strange indeed, a curious state of affairs one could say."

What the blasted cat could have meant by those words could have been any number of things and Tarrant made a mental note to serve the sour milk the next time he came to visit, it was the least he deserved for his attitude. However, he had given the Hatter something to think about, or worry about more to the point. Indeed, it was a very worrying idea that the bloody big head had vanished, because if she had then where had she gone, and to what purpose?

He continued to walk and think and think and walk round and round in circles, frowning and forgetting to apologise when he stepped off the beaten path as he wound the delicate gold chain of a simple, lost necklace round and round his bandaged fingers before unravelling it all and starting again.

He was still following the same ever-changing patterns when he walked, backwards, through the gates, almost tripping over the anxious McTwisp who had run out to greet him, all paws and frantic gestures and tumbled words.

"I'm afraid you just missed His Majesty the Goblin King, he left a few hours ago, but the Queen is still waiting in the tea rooms if you would like to follow me," the rabbit nattered, nervous and jumpy, skittering back towards the white marble palace while keeping both eyes on the missing milliner in case he decided to disappear again.

Tarrant was still thinking about the Cheshire Cat though, and he had come up with an answer, and it was not an answer he liked one bit as to where the Red Queen could have gone and why. The how did not matter.

"Alice."

* * *

If she had been anywhere else at any other time then the notebook would likely have met an untimely fate, slamming with great force into the nearest solid wall. Luckily for the notebook, however, Sarah was currently holed up in her university library surrounded by bookshelves as opposed to walls and a handful of people who would not approve of her throwing a drama queen sized hissy fit at her dead end research trail.

Nothing was adding up, nothing at all; she could not classify the Goblin King under any specific myth, legend, folklore or fairytale anywhere in the world. There were always discrepancies; little details that she wouldn't normally have noticed but now were blindingly obvious, crossing them off her list. Not him, not him and also not him. It was beginning to frustrate her.

Hoggle had, as expected, not been best pleased when she asked about his king, but had grudgingly given her answers. Answers which they both came to realise quite quickly were completely useless. He couldn't remember where he had first heard the Goblin King's name, nor could he remember when the current king had taken up the throne or who had been monarch before him. All in all it had left both of them with more questions and worries than answers and Sarah had made sure to check back with her friend every night since, to reassure herself that he was safe and to see if either of them could come up with anything new.

She'd been searching for too long, back through old lecture notes and large, musty volumes that were labelled in capital letters 'reference only', and coming up with a grand sum total of nothing. She was beginning to get paranoid, making excuses to call home and chat to her mischievous brother, just in case. Just in case of what; she honestly wasn't sure anymore, but the one thing she did know was that she wanted answers, that she hated not knowing what was creeping around in the gap between the worlds, or her world in the night.

Hoggle had told her that The King was away, but no one knew where, and that maybe Sir Didymus would know better or at least give them a clue no matter how biased his opinions may be as to who or what The King was, not even Hoggle used his name now, calling him only 'the rat' while Sarah settled for simply his title.

So, that was her plan for tonight, but it was not night yet and she still had another mountain of book to wade through before she could call it a day.

The Champion of the Labyrinth ran a hand through her and glared at all the names crossed out in angry black ink on her page, flipped open the next volume with more force than was truly necessary, earning her a few muttered comments from fellow students and staff, and began to read about the Chinese Jade Emperor and King Yama.


	5. Hiking And Holes

_A/N._ It is just gone five in the morning and I'm just off out to buy the DVD, since we in the UK didn't get it before today.

_Disclaimer:_ Don't own them. Never have, never will, just borrowing the characters.

**Hiking And Holes**

The ground was far from level, she knew she should have brought more sensible footwear and they thought she was crazy, told her so to her face when she explained where it was she wanted to take a walk this morning. Personally Alice was having a wonderful time; it was just a pity her entourage did not seem to feel the same way.

"Miss Kingsley, please," the young man called after her, "I think that we should be turning back now."

The unfortunate deck hand had been tasked by the captain with the job of keeping her out of trouble, something he was beginning to think was impossible. Impossible, Alice had told them on many occasions however, simply did not exist; there was no such thing as impossible.

"Whatever do you mean, Jonathan, we are not even half way there yet!" she called back, pausing when she reached another crossroad, carefully considering the options before her. "Now, should we go left, or right?"

"Me?" he asked, stopping and fixing her with an exasperated look, wondering if she had actually listened to anything she had been told. "I would not go either way."

"That settles it then," she replied with a satisfied smile as she began walking again, "We shall go straight on."

The whole detour was down to, of all things, a story she had heard from the local guide. They had said that Feng Du was a ghost town, a gateway to somewhere or another, and after that she had refused to take no for an answer, insisting that she visit the site. When they had asked her why she wanted to go her only reply had been, "Where better to look for a ghost?"

No one was quite sure what ghost Miss Kingsley was looking for but she had been asking questions at the port concerning a strange fellow she had met in a tea shop, some other local legend. Some had said the man was a myth while others claimed he was a chief of some far off isle, and some had just shaken their heads and told her to forget it.

She had given them a peculiar look when they said that, confused, and had gone very quiet for the remainder of the day. Some had heard her muttering as she walked back to her lodgings that she had not forgotten it was just that she did not remember. Surely the stranger would have answers for her, if only she could find him again.

"Miss Kingsley!"

Alice did not answer, continuing along the increasingly rocky overgrown paths, admiring the greenery and the view which was growing ever more stunning the further she climbed. She had heard that ghost towns were supposed to be spooky, but this was nothing like those stories, peaceful and quiet it was hard to believe that ghosts where supposed to reside in the area. There was nothing creepy about the flowers and the wind that made the leaves flutter like butterflies.

"Miss Kingsley, please, slow down!"

Much to the young man's frustration, however, Alice did not slow down, in fact, if anything she sped up, a smile creeping across her face that the entire crew had come to know meant that she had her head in the clouds again.

"What kind of life do you suppose people had here?" she asked. "Do you think the ghosts have tea parties too?"

"I do not know, Miss," Jonathan replied, tripping over the rocks that Alice seemed to skip across. "Perhaps if you had waited for the guide he may have been able to tell you."

At that Alice did stop, turning and fixing him with one of her business looks, one of many she had learnt from Lord Ascot. This one spoke of a client who was missing the obvious and of the patience of the one making the offer. "That would not have been until tomorrow at the earliest, Jonathan, and we do not have the luxury of such time… In fact I do believe we are running late."

"Running late for what, Miss?"

The look that followed was pure Alice, one of confident curiosity, "You know I do not know."

They had often questioned the sanity of the young woman, but until now the deck hand had been willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, putting it down to childish notions of how the world should be; she would grown out of it given time.

"I think we should be leaving-"

He was cut off as the young woman took a step back, shaking her head and laughing as if it were preposterous to even suggest such a thing. Then she stopped, a stray stone catching her off balance, and she knew she should have worn more sensible footwear for her excursion today as she fell backwards and vanished from sight.

Jonathan's eyes widened in shock and fear, yelling for her as he scrambled the last few feet to the last spot she had been stood in only to find himself on the edge of a deep hole. The bottom of it was nowhere in sight.

"Miss Kingsley?" he shouted, his voice echoing around the hillside. "Alice?"

There was no answer.

* * *

Seated before the mirror in the hall the fox sighed and shook his head, "I am afraid I do not know, fair maiden."

"Didymus, please," the Sarah on the other side of the looking glass pleaded, elbows resting on a veritable mountain of books, a chewed pen discarded beside a page full of scribble and crossing out. "You must know something, I'm getting nowhere over here; it's all just dead ends."

He wished he had better news for her, he had heard everything from Hoggle through much grumbling and concern for their champion, but with no word as to when the king was due to return he could not chance letting Sarah into the Underground, let alone the Goblin City Library, or worse, the King's library. No one knew for certain how the King would react to Sarah reappearing in his realm and no one wished to chance his rage if the answer happened to be 'badly' either.

"It cannot be done, Sarah, I am sorry."

"There must be a way, I won't be long, I just want half a day at most, please?"

Even Sir Didymus knew that it would take longer than half a day just to find the records relating to the King, and judging by the look in Sarah's eyes she knew as much as well.

"I would if only I could."

"Then why won't you? J- The King will never know I'm there."

The knight didn't want to answer that. No one had told Sarah that the Goblin King was not within his kingdom, no one could know that the Labyrinth's ruler was absent. He didn't want to be dishonest with the Labyrinth's Champion, yet at the same time he could not tell her the truth, to do so would be to break his promise to the king to keep His Majesty's absence a secret.

Perhaps someone somewhere was listening to his internal dilemma as at that precise moment an almighty crash echoed through the stone hallways of the Castle Beyond the Goblin City.

"What was that?" Sarah asked, worry replacing everything else as she tried to see down the castle hall from her side of the mirror, leaning forward, shifting piles of work to get a better view, but she was still none the wiser.

"I do not know," Didymus admitted, rising from his seat and following her gaze down the corridor. "However, I am afraid I must leave you and find out."

"Shouldn't the King…"

Sarah's voice disappeared into the background as the knight rounded the corner, wondering not for the first time why the King would not allow him to keep Ambrosius inside the castle, it would have made his task of keeping the relate peace rather a lot easier. With his faithful steed the journey would be so much quicker as tried to imagine what havoc the goblins could have caused this time to arise such a ruckus.

The goblins, however, seemed just as confused as he as he entered the throne room, the confused creatures all pointing at each other, or in a couple of cases the chickens.

"What has happened here?" Didymus demanded, standing tall and commanding their attention despite the fact many were taller in stature than him.

"We don't know," one of them admitted to the floor, glancing up at the fox a little worriedly. "But it came down up there."

The goblin had pointed to the stairs in the corner of the room, the same ones he, Sir Ludo and Hoggle had waited beside when their dear Sarah had gone on alone to face their king.

"Oh dear me, please do not tell me you went in there."

"We didn't! It made the noise all on its own. We swear it!"

Various voices clamoured to agree and the fox sighed again, slowly making his way to the stairs, one of the rooms no one was supposed to enter yet no one was entirely sure why. He supposed it was just the way it must be, but now knew he must enter to find out what had happened.

The Escher Room had no door, just an archway, and where the light came from he did not know as he could not see any windows, but then he could not tell which way was up and which was down so where the windows should be he could not rightly tell. What he could tell however was that something was different, was not how it should be, and the King would surely be mad this time as the little fox stared down from his vantage point at the young woman who seemed to be sitting upside down, frowning up at him.

"Is this Diyu…?" she asked cautiously, blonde hair coming unravelled and her blue dress crumpled and dirty.

Sir Didymus' mind reeled as he took it all in, muttering a phrase he had once heard from a rabbit he had met, "Oh, my fur and whiskers."


	6. A Mission And A Message

_A/N._ As forwarning I have no clue where this is going next, so I apologise in advance for any extended delay on the next chapter. Also, I have a Hatter in my room now, one of the DVD advertisment stand from the place I used to work. It's pretty much awesome.

_Disclaimer:_ Don't own them. Never have, never will, just borrowing the characters.

**A Mission And A Message**

She was, armed, dangerous and, above all, imaginative; if no one was going to help her then Sarah Williams was just going to have to help herself.

She had stared at her mirror for a while after Didymus had left in such a hurry, trying to take in everything which hadn't been said. Then she had made a decision, one she was fairly certain her friends would not approve of, but she did not approve of being kept in the dark even more, so she had then spent the next half hour hunting back through her piles of books and notes for the pages she'd copied on lay lines. It was a long shot, but it was worth a try with the right attitude and, hopefully, placing, though she had no clue where she might arrive at if-

No, she thought to herself sternly, not 'if' it worked but 'when' it worked, and she would figure the rest out later. Right now she had better things to be worrying about than whether or not she might land closer to the Bog than the City, like why the Goblin King was unable to deal with disturbances in his own kingdom.

With that, somewhat more worrying than it should have been, thought in mind Sarah Williams set out down the street, map in hand and a bag slung over her shoulder to search for a way back.

* * *

Blissfully unaware of the actions of the Champion of the Labyrinth the Labyrinth's ruler was busy wondering, and not for the first time, why the flowers always had to be such gossips. He had heard more than he wanted to about the things he was most certain had _not_ happened during the infamous Alice's latest escapade. No, Tarrant might have won the crazy contest between them but he did not have the same way with the ladies that Jareth did and the idea of the sort of behaviour as the flowers were implying from his friend was enough to make him laugh.

The flowers tutted and, he assumed, began making up a few stories about him as well as he climbed the rather crooked staircase to the door that was perched precariously at the top of it. It looked, for all intents and purposes, as if whatever it had been attached to had simply crumbled away, leaving just the door and the stairs leading to it.

Jareth gave the door a long look, "I refuse to get down on my hands and knees."

The door remained exactly the same: too small to comfortably walk through.

The Goblin King waited for a minute or two longer before giving in to the fact that the door was not going to listen to his request and crouching down to get through into the room beyond.

Once inside he stood up, dusted down his clothes and tried to at least give the impression he had not had his dignity compromised by being forced to crawl in, he was a king after all.

None of that, however, made the room he was standing in any less impressive. Asides from the door he had entered by – now infuriatingly the right size, he noted, giving it a dirty look – there were seven others made of varying materials which towered above him.

Jareth sighed, "Why is everything in the place always too tall or too small?"

He didn't expect to receive an answer, knowing that this place, like the Labyrinth, had a mind of its own, and likely a twisted one at that. Still, he looked around again, at least this time the waiting table was at a usable height, and someone must have been expecting him if the two elegant glass and oak chairs were anything to go by. So, taking the hint, the Goblin King walked round to the double wooden doors and knocked politely before taking a seat, rolling his eyes at the empty bottle of pishsalver and half eaten upelkuchen cake. He seemed to recall the girl had done something similar the last time she was here as well.

He didn't have long to wonder on the repetition of history, however, the double doors creaking open on ancient hinges.

"You really should get that seen to you know," Jareth said as way of greeting, slipping the mental regal cloak about his shoulders. He would not back down or show fear, no matter how foolish that may have been. "It sounds quite terrible."

"I see the years have not changed you one bit, boy," Time replied, taking a seat opposite the monarch. "Did your predecessor not teach you any manners?"

Jareth snorted, "That old coot? Not likely."

Time raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Sensing an opportunity to be done with his visit quickly, Jareth continued on, straight to the point, "A recent runner of the Labyrinth left a contribution with the Wiseman, yet the Wiseman is now no longer in possession of it. I have it on good authority that you can tell me where it is now."

"Why the rush, boy?" was Time's only slow and measured reply.

"Any item left behind from an Aboveground visitor is a danger, which is why it should be properly contained, preferably by the ruling monarch."

It was a standard rule, and was why he had a cellar full of accumulated junk discarded by various runners that would make even Agnes jealous. Personally, if it wouldn't have been seen as careless and stupid, he would have long since let her and her friends take the lot.

All Time had for him though was another question as opposed to an answer, "And what of the runner?"

"One would assume that she is none the wiser." He realised his mistake even as he was saying it, adding quickly and sharply, "Which is how it should stay."

"Assumptions are a folly, much like you and your little friend's assassination attempt." Time picked up the empty bottle, watching it refill itself and the cake become whole again as he rewound their existence. "And how are you both enjoying the consequences of that little adventure?"

Jareth's mind filled with the image of his friend, forever stuck at tea, unable to move forwards or back, unable to do anything but wait, and he, the great Goblin King, with more hours than anyone else in a day, able to do what he liked with them but with no reason to do so, not until Sarah's arrival. Yes, he'd moved played with time then and just look where that had got him.

"Fantastic," he spat, and he couldn't have sounded more sarcastic or perpetual if he tried, "Just fantastic."

The bottle had disintegrated, nothing but sand left on the table and the thunderclap left his ears ringing, but he didn't back down or look away as Time rose to his feet, "The world will not always go your way, boy. You cannot steal power just because of the actions of a few ants and expect to be applauded for it."

He remembered now exactly why he disliked dealing with most of the inhabitant of this room and why he'd been all too happy to assist in the plan to kill Time. He also remembered exactly why he always felt the urge after following the Wiseman's advice to string the old crook up by his feet over the Bog of Eternal Stench; just because Time knew where the damn contribution Sarah had left behind was, it did not mean that He would tell Jareth.

Rising from his own seat Jareth turned and walked away before his temper could get the best of him, his voice dropping to an icy temperature, "At least as a King I do not abandon my subjects."

The upelkuchen exploded against the wall above his head, showering him in crumbs and he almost did not hear Time's last words as he opened the door and stepped back out into the daylight.

"Are you truly so sure about that, boy?"

Jareth knew it was petty but he slammed the door behind him, muttering a few of the nicer Outlandish curses he'd learnt from Tarrant and Thackery, surely giving the flowers even more fodder for their gossip mill, as he summoned a crystal, requesting of it a direct line to one of the only goblin's available with half a brain cell.

"Sir Didymus," he began, only to actually be cut off by his subject.

"Your Majesty," he twittered, his anxious tone actually worrying the king. "I'm afraid we have a small problem. There's a woman here demanding she see you right away."

A dozen or more names flickered through his mind, "Who?"

"She says her name is Iracebeth."

Jareth's eyes widened, but Didymus hadn't finished.

"There's also a girl here who says her name is Alice."

Iracebeth and Alice, both in his kingdom at the same time, and Sarah's contribution still nowhere to be found. Jareth decided he was not having a good week.

He sighed, at least Tarrant would be pleased that Alice had returned, quite quickly too it would seem.

"I will be there as soon as I can, just make sure that the two do not meet."

"Why ever for?"Didymus inquired. "Surely a gracious host-"

"Just do it or I'll have you guard the Cleaners instead of the Castle!"

Smashing the crystal Jareth took flight; taking the straightest path back home he could find.

* * *

Sarah stared at the white rabbit wearing the waistcoat, and the rabbit stared back at the girl holding the battered map, bag and manhole cover, looking more than a little worse for wear after her fall. The only sound was the ticking of the pocket watch clutched in the rabbit's paw until Sarah took it upon herself to state the obvious: "I think I took a wrong turn somewhere."


	7. Fashion Sense And Hiding Places

_A/N._ I have no control over this fic anymore, so I'm going to go and hide under the pile of fabric and pins that's currently eating myself and j_merc alive.

_Disclaimer:_ Don't own them. Never have, never will, just borrowing the characters.

**Fashion Sense And Hiding Places**

The untimely arrival of the Labyrinth's Champion in the flowerbeds of Marmoreal did not surprise the queen as much as it had poor, dear McTwisp, though she did wince slightly at the discontent murmurs about broken stems and battered petals.

This champion, the queen was quick to decide, was so very different from her own in just about every way, from her looks right down to the way she spoke, muttering to herself about washing machines and manhole covers. Mirana was not sure she wished to know what the Labyrinth's Champion was talking about as she took a moment to study the young woman's attire. She wore trousers. Such a thing was unheard of in Marmoreal or even in Crims, and made from a fabric the queen was unfamiliar with, yet she put the peculiarity to one side and smiled widely, interrupting Sarah's complaint filled monologue, "Greeting from Marmoreal, Champion of the Labyrinth."

Sarah raised a quizzical eyebrow as she averted her eyes from her dirty, grass stained clothing to the White Queen, thinking of the White Rabbit with the pocket watch, "Marmoreal? Don't remember that one in Carroll's books."

Mirana shook her head in confusion; it seemed all champions were at least a little peculiar and hazy when it came to the geography of the world, "Yes, this is Marmoreal and I am the queen here, Mirana, the poor white rabbit you startled was McTwisp and I do believe that this is yours." The Queen held out her hand, Sarah's ring sitting innocently in her palm. "I have been expecting you."

Staring at the old piece of costume jewellery it took Sarah a moment to recognise it as the one her mother had given her and she had consequently used to pay The Wiseman for his advice, no matter how kooky that advice had been and Sarah hesitated. She didn't know who this queen was and she was far more wary of gifts since running the Labyrinth and more so of them and the tricks of the Fae since she started her systematic decimation of the library.

"It is quite safe, only The Wiseman and I have had it; Jareth has not touched it, does not even know where it rests."

That caught Sarah's full and undivided attention, "You know the Goblin King?"

Mirana nodded and smiled a somewhat secret filled smile, "For many, many years. He is a good friend of a member of my court, a Hatter by the name of Tarrant Hightopp."

The look that crossed Sarah's face was one of disbelief and wonder. Somehow she had never thought of the king as having a friend, let alone one who was not at least a lord or lady.

Mirana laughed, a high, light sound, "Come now, you and I have much to speak of, do you like tea?"

"Actually I prefer coffee, thanks," Sarah replied instinctively. Then she saw the queen's spotless white dress and looked back down at her rather worse for wear jeans and t-shirt combination, remembering her earlier desire to get the dratted things clean before starting her research. "And a washing machine wouldn't go amiss either."

"…Washing machine?"

It was Sarah's turn to laugh, realising what a long shot it had been that a mystical land such as this would have such a common, modern day appliance, "Never mind, I've looked worse."

* * *

Alice had been asked by the little fox with the eye patch to remain where she was in the spacious guest room he had escorted her too. He had been awfully polite and this had not struck her as strange, calling her 'my lady', he reminded her of a rabbit she had once met, one with a waistcoat and pocket watch.

She thought about that image of a rabbit as she sat beside the large window. The window held no glass; it was just an open stone archway set into the wall, but the view was fantastically endless, full of tall hedges and walls, and the gentle breeze was refreshing. This was certainly a castle, but she did not think somehow that the fox was king.

"A castle should have a queen," she murmured to herself. "One all dressed in white with a brilliant smile and peculiar taste culinary ingredients."

It sounded very familiar and Alice frowned at the view from her window-ledge perch. She could not see what lay beyond the rolling hills that disappeared into the sun, either due east or west, but she wanted to know, somehow it seemed important.

She could hear voices drifting up from the floor below but could not make out the words. One voice she recognised as the fox, but the other sounded much more like a child who had not been allowed second helpings of desert.

Alice glanced at the open door and the hallway beyond it which could lead her to the source of these voices, "Surely it would not hurt to take a peek…"

She remembered being told once that curiosity killed the cat, but she was not a cat and she was also most certain that if said cat had evaporating skills then it could easily avoid such an untimely fate.

By the time she had thought the statement through, however, she had reached the door.

There was no one in the hallway, no guards or maids or anything, and she had made it this far already so it only stood to reason that she should complete her quest to find out what was going on, creeping on silent feet down the corridor towards the stairs and the muffled voices below.

The childlike one was making demands while the fox repeatedly apologised. The king was currently unable to meet her in person so would she be so kind as to wait, take a rest after her long journey in one of the guest rooms, perhaps?

"No," the 'she' snapped back. "I want to see the king now!"

Some part of Alice's mind filled the brief silence that followed before the fox's next apology with a shrill shriek of 'off with their heads!'

"Too late," Alice replied, "already lost them."

The feeling of a memory of the dream she could never quite remember was growing stronger as curiosity won out and she placed her hands on the stones wall, peering round the corner into the throne room.

The sight of a woman in what must have once been a fine red dress but now was tattered and dirty with an unusually large head in proportion to her body made Alice's eyes widen.

But, how could this be? Why was the Red Queen here? Alice glanced back at the stone wall beneath her palms, so very _un_familiar. For that matter, where was here?

Her eyes snapping back to the fox and the queen, she knew, somehow, that something was missing, something important. Her mind, however, refused to tell her what as the line between dreams and memories blurred. Either way she knew this scene before her spelt only one thing: trouble.

An almighty crash of thunder interrupted her thoughts as another figure appeared in the room.

The fox was evidently relieved, "Your Majesty!"

The King had arrived and even to Alice's eyes he looked strange with his dark clothing and wild hair. She could tell this man was dangerous as he smiled at his guest, ignoring the little fox completely. It was not a kind smile. "Ah, dear Iracebeth, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Jareth, that beastly sister of mine has stolen my crown and I want it back!"

"Oh? And what have such petty sibling squabbles have to do with myself?"

Iracebeth was growing angry and Alice knew she should leave but she remained, watching the scene unfold as the king crossed the room to his throne, throwing himself down on it and waiting with perfect disinterest for an answer.

"You will help me get it back!"

Jareth's smile never faltered, "And if I choose not to? I do have a kingdom to run, children to steal and goblins to kick, what time do I have for you?"

The fox was growing anxious, his good eye fixed worriedly on Alice's hiding place, but Alice shook her head: she would not run away, such an action would not be very muchly of her. Though she would admit she would prefer a safer hiding place, or perhaps a drink that would make her shrink. At that she did laugh, though not aloud, for it really was a rhyme.

"Else," Iracebeth's voice dropped to an almost icy temperature and Alice's laughter stopped dead. She had never heard that tone of voice before. "You shall meet the same fate as the last man to defy me."

It was then that Alice realised what was so wrong with the picture before her, what, or more who, it was that was missing: Ilosovic Stayne, the Knave that had been banished along with the Red Queen. The implications of Iracebeth's words were not something Alice wished to dwell on.

The King sighed and shook his head, muttering something about Outlands, water and insanity, and then something else about nails and coffins, before raising his head and voice again, "No, Iracebeth, I do not have time for your games; go home and play with your toys."

The Red Queen shrieked, the King closed his eyes and the fox drew a sword that was too small to harm anyone, let alone defend his tired monarch against the crazy woman.

Alice could see that and had made her move before thinking at all, her head filled with familiar words she did not know the meaning to, all bar the few she spoke with conviction and ease: "Downal with Bluddy Behg Hid!"

The Red Queen's attention was diverted, "You!"

Sir Didymus buried his sword in the Iracebeth's leg.

The Red Queen stopped for a moment and swayed on the spot before collapsing to the ground.

The old fox gave Alice a grin and told her in an overdramatic stage whisper: "Peaches, my lady, they make for a fine sleeping drought."

Jareth groaned, buried his face in his hands and wished he had never got up in the first place.


	8. A Tale And A Truth Or Two

_A/N._ And, out of nowhere! Totally written at the same time (literally) as a oneshot for a completely different fandom. ...Still no idea what's happening, just thought I'd get this chapter out while I had the inspiration for it.

_Disclaimer:_ Don't own them. Never have, never will, just borrowing the characters.

**A Tale And A Truth Or Two**

The tea room was exactly as Sarah was coming to expect from this Marmoreal: white. However, there was something, or more someone, who looked very out of place. A man in a hat and odd socks pacing round in circles, wringing his hands who jumped when Mirana entered the room, giving a smile that would have been bright enough to even light Toby's toy cupboard. Unfortunately the light blinked out almost as quickly as it had appeared upon setting his eyes on Sarah.

"Not Alice," he declared vehemently before collapsing back into a chair, seeming to fall in on himself like a toppled house of cards.

"No, Tarrant," Mirana agreed. The queen's patient tone reminding Sarah of a mother speaking to a frantic child, or the way she had often found herself speaking to Ludo. "But, this is Sarah."

Sarah's first thought was that way in which the queen used her name made it sound important, more like a title than just her name, and the way in which Tarrant's eyes widened did little to quell that idea. Only problem was Sarah didn't know exactly what that importance might be and it was beginning to put her on edge.

Her second, however, was the realisation that this Tarrant must have been the same one Mirana had mentioned previously, and it was a hard fact to believe that this strange man would be a friend of the Goblin King. The image was a hard one to process, and she knew she was staring even before Mirana voiced the fact.

"It's rude to stare," she said, stepping past the Labyrinth's Champion and gesturing for her to take a seat.

"A door knocker told me the same thing," Sarah replied absently, narrowing her eyes at the hatter, sure she must have been imagining it. But she knew she wasn't; her memory wasn't that bad.

Of course she wasn't wrong, a voice somewhere in the back of her head told her, she'd spent enough time staring at that rather accurate statue to have it committed perfectly to memory.

"Sarah?"

Concern for her current situation was quickly giving way to amusement at the one similarity she had found between the man across the table from her and the one she had beaten and downright humiliated: "You both have odd eyes."

The hatter's confusion was evident, "I beg your pardon?"

"No, I'm right. I know I am," Sarah grinned. "You and Jar- the Goblin King; one eye doesn't react to changes in the light."

Whether or not her words were actually understood her point was, Tarrant waving it off, "Oh, that old thing, just a trifle really, though not a very tasty one, we had a fight you see."

Sarah's excitement vanished in an instant, all manner of folklore flitting through her mind and none of it reassuring, "What kind of magic could cause that?"

"Magic?" Mirana laughed, interrupting the exchange, though Sarah couldn't see what was so funny about any magic which could cause such damage which could not be fixed as well, but the queen continued before the champion could voice her worries. "It was no magic, my dear, they simply had a fist fight over a dance with a young maiden and I thought it best that they wear the damage they inflicted as a reminder not to do it again. It is of no consequence really, though it does make for an entertaining dinner story."

Of all the things she had been expecting to hear, that was not really one of them. The almighty Goblin King in a punch up was not something her mind could quite comprehend. The reason for it – a girl – did not surprise her however, "I feel sorry for the poor girl."

"You should, she was playing them both," Mirana began while Tarrant muttered something into his teacup that Sarah didn't understand. The queen admonished his choice of language and went on to finish what she had been trying to say, something almost strict in her gaze. "Things are not always as they seem. Neither had wanted to dance with Iracebeth, they fought over who was to draw the short straw as it were."

The sudden impact of china hitting the wall made Sarah jump.

"An' all this dilly-dallying does nothin' ta save Alice from her!"

Mirana just shook her head and sighed, "I try to tell him that she is safe, that Jareth will take care-"

Sarah was already on her feet, needing to hear no more as she turned to the irate hatter, "Which way do we go?"

"North and west," Tarrant replied, the anger and accent leaving his voice, "but mostly west. The fastest way to travel would be by Bandersnatch. Been taking good care of him for her, but he keeps refusing afternoon tea, I've tried everything but he just won't join us."

Wherever else that tangent had been going Sarah derailed it as she stared at the sword Tarrant retrieved from beside the table, her mind tripping quickly over the fact that such things were usually made of steel, and steel contained iron, and, "I thought those kinds of things were poisonous to Fae."

Tarrant glanced down at the sword and then back to Sarah, "Probably, but how should that matter to me?"

"But I thought you and the Goblin-"

The hatter stared at her as she had grown a second head and decided to speak backwards and upside down, stating simply: "Jareth is as mortal as you or I."

* * *

The mortal king in question was nursing a headache as he asked the careless blonde girl once more why she had done such a foolish thing.

Alice was defiant though, almost a blonde version of the Labyrinth's own champion, just dressed rather differently. He really couldn't see Sarah willing picking up a dress like the one Alice was currently sporting, more was the pity.

"Because, that is why."

The girl had not a clue, not really, she was bluffing and the conversation was going in circles, "Do you or do you not know Iracebeth of Crims?"

"Yes."

"From where?"

That was where she stumbled; her memory had been fragmented from too much travelling between the worlds.

Casting his eyes to the high stone ceiling Jareth simultaneously somewhat wished he hadn't needed the fox to see that Iracebeth was escorted to a more suitable location than the middle of his throne room floor, cursed Time and offered a silent apology to his friend. But, really, wouldn't it be better if he filled this girl in on everything before taking her back to Tarrant?

"You, Alice Kingsley, are well known here." Not entirely true, but true enough; her legend was already known to the goblins at least. "You are also Champion to the White Queen, Mirana of Marmoreal, whose kingdom resides on the other side of the Outlands. You fought and defeated the Jabberwocky, thus restoring Mirana to her rightful place as Queen."

Alice's brows kitted in concentration, "Then why am I here? Where is here?"

"This is the Goblin Kingdom, and I can only assume that you took a wrong turn somewhere, else found one of the few direct roads between here and the world Above."

"Is there a way back?"

"Probably, however, I would not recommend it."

She sounded more indignant than curious, "Why ever not?"

There were a few reason open to the king that he could choose from spread out before him. He could lie and say he would need her to deal with Iracebeth, stall her long enough to get word to Mirana of her wayward champion's appearance in his kingdom and request advice or assistance, anything. He could lie and send her back to Tarrant, but that would mean her travelling alone, and while he was sure she could take care of herself, a champion alone would be prime target. He could just tell her about Tarrant and the fact he'd gone even crazier since last she left and request she stay and wait for him. Or, he could pull a card which bypassed all of that.

"It is unknown what any further travel between this world and your own may do to your mind, already it seems as if you have many holes in your memory."

"Oh," she seemed to think about that for a moment, taken aback by the simple logic. "Have there not been others such as myself in the past?"

At that he allowed himself a wry smile, "A few, but they usually prefer to remain here, choosing not to return Above in the first place."

"Why is that?"

Jareth decided he'd found a definite difference between this girl and Sarah, this one asked more questions, "Many reasons, too many to list."

Suddenly she switched the topic, "The Hatter, that's who it was."

Jareth raised an eyebrow, not sure if he wanted to ask.

"It's coming back to me now. That's who that man reminded me of."

"What man?"

"The one I met in the teashop," Alice replied, as if such a thing were obvious. "Yet he gave me no name, if travel between this world and-"

"I assure you, girl, Tarrant has not left Tulgey Wood since your departure."

"Tarrant…"

Jareth continued without thinking, "Yes, Tarrant, and a more besotted fool I have never seen."

At some point during the endless conversation the goblins had begun creeping back into the throne room, sensing that the coast was now clear, and it was at this point that one small goblin who should have known better piped up, "Try lookin' inna mirr-"

The goblin quickly found himself regretted re-entering the throne room as he took an impromptu flying lesson, learning even quicker that unfortunately the laws of gravity still applied even in the Labyrinth.

Jareth glared at the goblin as it disappeared out of the window while pointedly ignore the shocked and horrified look on his guest's face, "Now, I am assuming you will be in need of a place to stay until this situation can be resolved."

"No," Alice replied, crossing her arms, appalled with the monarch's treatment of his subjects. "I do not."

With that the White Queen's Champion turned on her heels and left the room with no intention of returning.


	9. Peculiarity And Junk

_A/N._ I have a dozen or more excuses for the rather long delay and I cannot say that the next chapter will be any less delayed, but excuses aren't very interesting, so onwards!

_Disclaimer:_ Don't own them. Never have, never will, just borrowing the characters.

**Peculiarity And Junk**

This Sarah, who dressed like a boy but by no means looked like one otherwise, was a most peculiar being. One might almost go as far as to say that a Sarah was as peculiar as an Alice was curious. Almost, but not hardly, and as such the dilemma as how to classify a Sarah was a most perplexing one, and one which was enough to keep the hatter's mind occupied for a vast majority of the vastly too long journey across the Outlands. He had always wondered, though, why ever could they not just move Marmoreal and the Goblin City closer together? It would solve rather a few problems. Like the overly long journey time through what was no longer the most pleasant of areas.

Sarah, meanwhile, seemed perfectly content to sleep through most of it, without a whit of concern for the dangers which could present themselves at any given moment. Then again, a Sarah was, as previously mentioned, a peculiar creature with peculiar notions of what classed as 'dangerous', a point that was made most clear when she greeted the dreaded Bandersnatch with an inquiry as to whether the beast was any relative of her friend Ludo whilst petting his nose. This was a position which was, in Tarrant's humble opinion, far too close to the Bandersnatch's teeth for any degree comfort.

That particular exchange had been quite some hours ago now and, during her waking moments, the young woman had asked little more than for directions to the Goblin City and the rat that lived within. Why ever Sarah wished to speak with the rodent population when it was in Jareth's care that Alice was residing was most befuddling and he would have to question her on the matter when she awoke.

Still, perhaps such strangeness was just a trait shared by all Abovegrounders; it certainly wasn't the oddest thing he had ever heard from such people.

Such was the manner of many of Tarrant Hightopp's thoughts as they passed across the border between the Outlands and the Labyrinth, the sun rising at their back, light tumbling across the awe inspiring and greatly frustrating Labyrinth itself. There was no time for dilly-dallying however else Time would be hot on his heels for wasting time again, so he nudged the tiring Bandersnatch down the hillside and through the doors into the maze.

"Almost there," Tarrant told the Bandersnatch, wondering for a moment whether the beast was male or female, petting its fur in what he hoped was a reassuring fashion, allowing the creature to slow down whilst he tried to recall the fastest route to the City. That was unless Jareth had become bored and rearranged everything. Again. It wouldn't be the first time, nor would it be the last. And the feather-brained coot was forever refuting his suggestion to let Thackery make a path right through the middle; it would make the process so much quicker and easier, wouldn't it? He would really have to speak with the monarch about that again.

It wasn't until he paused to ask the wall-worm for directions that Sarah decided to announce that she was no longer in Dream Land, a lovely place, but such a headache in regards to things keeping to their correct proportions and orientation.

"Should've asked why I shouldn't go that way…"

"If I'd've known, your Ladyship…" the worm began to apologise.

She waved a lazy hand, "Hindsight, twenty-twenty."

A Sarah was also, Tarrant decided, not particularly coherent immediately upon waking. Perhaps he should also warn Jareth of this fact. Or perhaps he should not, no telling what trouble the owl may land himself in, unwittingly or otherwise. Though, such a thing could also provide a touch of well deserved entertainment.

"There's fun to be had in taking the long way round, a right grand adventure," he said. "Yet there is no time for such luxury today."

"Nope," Sarah agreed, stretching, bones clicking in ways which could not have been healthy as she continued in a more coherent fashion, "There's too much to be done. Still, at least there's no time limit this go around."

There were many ways in which the hatter could reply to that statement, but it was perhaps not in his best interests to voice any of them. Not after the state she'd left Jareth in after her last trip, which also happened to be her first trip, which meant his Alice best Jareth's Sarah in that respect as this was likely her third trip, despite the unexpected detour to the nearby kingdom instead of a timely tea-time arrival at Marmoreal.

Sarah seemed to be giving him a most horrified look, one which sat on the border between Distraught and Death Inflicting, before stating in a voice which was leaning far more towards the latter: "I am _not_ Jareth's Sarah."

"Oh." He hadn't meant to say any of that out loud. He didn't think he had in fact. So perhaps this Sarah had mind reading abilities. Perhaps, also, then it was high time to line his most wonderful hat with that marvellous Tinfoil that Thackery had taken to hording in the kitchens.

As it was though, any further thoughts – mind reading or otherwise – were interrupted by the sound of other voices drifting across the junk field.

"Thank you kindly for your hospitality, M'am."

"Ah, think nothing of it, love, but mark me, this ain't a place to wander without a guide."

"I suppose I should seek another rabbit then."

"A rabbit, is it? I'm sure I have one round here…"

The older of the two voices trailed off into clattering noise, but Tarrant was already babbling, grinning as he jumped from the back of the Bandersnatch, "I'd know that voice anywhere, anywhere I tell you!"

It mattered not a whit whether Sarah followed him or not as he scrambled across and over and around, or even on one odd occasion through, the piles of accumulated Junk, tumbling and landing in an untidy heap on the ground between the two women, the elder in the process of handing over a slightly worse for wear white plush rabbit.

"What is it with you young people and dropping in unannounced," the Junk Lady tutted, shaking her head. "Did I not teach you any better manners than that, Master Tarrant?"

"Agnes, oh my, yes, I'm sorry," the Hatter hurried to his feet, patting down his coat until he pulled a rather crumbled piece of shortbread from an inside pocket. "Please, accept this in apology, I do so hope that it's still your favourite and would stop for tea but I'm afraid I am running most late for another very important greeting." With barely a pause for breath he spun on a foot, throwing his arms out wide and declared: "Alice!"

The look of surprise slipped from the young woman's face, turning into a smile and then a friendly laugh, "Oh, Hatter…"

* * *

The scene, Sarah reasoned as she and the Bandersnatch finally caught up with the runaway hatter, was hardly the strangest thing she had ever happened across and she wasn't even going to try and guess what half the conversation was about. The talk of holes and hidden cities and being the right size seemed to her to fit right in the crazy pair, the young woman's gestures growing as wide as Tarrant's whilst they spoke, and her laughter just as manic. Though, it had to be said, as a location for a dramatic reunion they could have chosen somewhere nicer. Still, at least it wasn't The Bog, so, it could also have been far worse.

However, the presence of the young woman Sarah assumed was Alice from Tarrant's previous yelling brought to mind a far more important question: "Where's the Goblin King?"

She could not, and would not, call him by his name, regardless of his apparent mortal nature. There were still far too many holes in this story and she was sure if she put one foot wrong she would fall right through one of them. She refused to admit to her earlier slip up on this decision.

"He is in the castle of course, my child," Agnes replied. "Left this little miss in quite the tizzy with his behaviour he did; such lack of manners all round these days."

Sarah squashed the countless ways in which she could interpret that statement, "What exactly happened?"

"Iracebeth's gone off her rocker, always thought she was a bit odd that one, never giving an old woman the time of day. Such a spoilt child..."

"I meant, why is Alice here? How did she escape?"

"I simply turned and walked out of the door, the king did not try to stop me," Alice said, looking up at the sound of her name and stepping past the hatter, smiling at the Bandersnatch, saying a polite hello to the beast before continuing her explanation. "I did not approve of the way he treated his subjects. That was no way for a monarch to behave, in fact, it was downright rude."

The Labyrinth's champion looked at the blonde, the young woman with her head held high, and then laughed, "You don't know the half of it."

"Why, whatever was he doing, Alice?" Tarrant asked, a perplexed expression on his face.

"He threw a subject out of the throne room window!"

His laughter was as helter-skelter as everything else about him, "My dear, that merely means he was most likely embarrassed." There was a brief pause, and then, "What did the goblin say?"

"It was something about looking in a mirror, just after the king had called you a besotted fool…"

Sarah stilled at the words as she slid down from the Bandersnatch, and then shook her head of the foolish concept, leaving Alice and Tarrant to their newest tangent about the foolishness of being late. Their conversations changed fast enough to give her whiplash, but she had to admit they were well suited.

"If I might interrupt your thoughts," Agnes said, sidling up to her and pointing towards the high walls of the Goblin City. "You should be thinking about getting yourself up to castle before it gets late."

Staring up at the castle Sarah found that she was unwilling to go any further, "Why? Alice is safe, my work is done. I should be heading back. I'm sure Marmoreal has a library I can borrow, no need to go in there."

"There's every need, girl, you just don't know it yet."

As if on cue there was a landslide, at least that was Sarah's first impression of the deafening clatter of pots and pans. It was an impression which was quickly rectified though as a grumbling figure emerged from the wreckage, much to Agnes apparent disapproval, tutting and sighing about how much work everyone was making for her today.

Sarah wasn't listening, instead throwing herself at the dwarf, "Hoggle!"

"We needs ya, Sarah," he said. "We _all_ do."


	10. Maybes And Mistakes

_A/N._ Muses went on extended vacation. They sent a postcard though, so here is a somewhat filler-y chapter.

_Disclaimer:_ Don't own them. Never have, never will, just borrowing the characters.

**Maybes And Mistakes**

Walking through the Goblin City freely was a strange feeling and Sarah half expected to be set upon at any moment, looking back over her shoulder for would-be goblin attackers or perhaps one rouge and irritated barn owl out on a revenge quest, but that may have just been her paranoia talking. Instead she thought she could hear the occasional awed whisper through an open window of 'Lady Sarah', but mostly she just listened to the ramblings of Alice and the Hatter, interjected with occasional questions of her own about what exactly a Jabberwocky was – asides a confusing piece of poetry she'd once studied – and how come the Bandersnatch was so feared when he was such a tame beast.

The latter had earned her a sigh and a shake of the head from Hoggle, while Alice had been delighted to know someone shared in her options of the creature.

All too soon though the castle gates loomed and Sarah's pace slowed until she came to a stop not four steps away from the great, towering wooden doors.

"Why are we stopping?" Alice asked, slowing down as well but stopping a step in front of Sarah, hovering with her hand stretched toward the doors. "Surely we should keep moving?"

Sarah didn't quite know why her feet had stopped, and didn't like the idea that her heart rate had definitely risen as they grew closer to their destination, and, by proxy, to the Goblin King.

"We're not," she replied stubbornly, forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other and her hands out in front of her to throw the doors open, the noise they made impressive as they hit the walls. Maybe she shouldn't have pushed quite so hard.

Behind her Tarrant apologised to the doors and Hoggle gave up asking the Bandersnatch to wait outside, dubious that the creature wouldn't just bite his head off, and so the entire party continued down the hall to the throne room, following Sarah who seemed to be stalking instead of merely walking, her shoes ringing out clearly against the stone.

"Are you sure she is alright?" Sarah heard Tarrant ask in a not all too quiet tone.

Hoggle's reply was muffled, but the response from the Hatter was vaguely agreeable.

The Labyrinth's Champion, however, had far more important things on her mind, like whether or not she was about to be turned into a toad. It was probably an exaggeration, and even she knew and understood that, but she couldn't help the more imaginative part of her mind running wild, after all she had beaten and humiliated a king and that was not something which could be forgotten so easily. She certainly hadn't forgotten it – any of it – and that was what worried her the most. She was not more than a few meters away from the doors which stood between little human her and someone who was apparently as mortal as she and had invaded more of her dreams over the years since she'd left than she would ever be willing to admit.

Sarah Williams was downright terrified, but not of the king, she was, she realised after she had one hand on the throne room door, terrified of herself. She was terrified of what she might say or do and, all rumours aside, of being completely crushed.

* * *

Jareth could hear the footsteps, he would have been surprised if anyone couldn't; his guests sounded at least as bad as the goblins, if not worse. He also decided that Lady Luck had to hate him today, honestly, truly, hate him and he wondered what he had done to invoke her anger.

At his feet two chickens fought over some scrap a goblin had dropped before he had ordered them all out of the room before more of them joined their fellow subject in flight lessons conducted from the throne room window. It was tempting to kick the clucking creatures, but the king resisted lest he bring down even worse luck. Luck, after all, did have a soft spot from the chickens, though it was anyone's guess as to why.

He knew – even before he saw her – that it was Sarah leading the rag-tag group into his throne room, and, judging by the racket she was not here for a peaceful reunion.

"You should knock first," Hoggle was saying, though no one was listening, and, rightfully, there were nerves in the dwarf's voice.

"Twaddle."

Tarrant too, had come to visit then, must have heard of the Red Queen's return and no doubt Mirana had sent Sarah along with him somehow. She did like to meddle the White Queen did, Jareth was really going to have to find her a less troublesome hobby, if nothing else then to allow him to get into his own trouble in peace.

"I'm here because Hoggle asked me to."

Inwardly Jareth flinched; Sarah had lost none of her haughty steel.

He really rather disliked that goblin earlier for reminding him just how he – unfortunately – felt about the girl because clearly she did not feel the same.

"And why," he began, keeping his voice cool and level, "Did Hoggle ask you to come?"

"He," Sarah raised her head, ever the defiant one. "He said that there was trouble and that I was needed."

The dwarf shrunk back, and Jareth, for the first time since their entrance noticed Alice, hand in hand with Tarrant who could not have looked happier about it, but also the Bandersnatch sitting contentedly behind Sarah, and wondered what it was with the woman and large, dangerous beasts.

"I was just passing on what I'd heard," Hoggle said from what he considered a safe and well fortified position. "What Didymus told me."

"Blasted fox, I'll ring his neck-"

"Leave Sir Didymus out of this, J-" Sarah stopped, breathed, "Goblin King."

"If my subjects are actively going behind my back then that is treason against the crown and they should be punished as such."

He had risen from his throne as he spoke, stalking down the steps, eyes fixed on the girl – now so much a woman – who defied and infuriated him at every turn, at every possibly opportunity, and cared not a whit for the consequences.

He saw something inside her snap, "And if you cannot care for them as you should then you are not fit to be king and deserve whatever fate has in store for you."

Then Sarah, Champion of the Labyrinth, turned and left through the nearest exist, the wooden door slamming loudly behind her, leaving everyone to watch the space she had just been stood in.

"Well, you old coot," Tarrant said finally, lightly and yet firmly, a peculiar amusement in his eyes. "You should probably go after her."

"Why ever should I do that, she has made her feelings perfectly clear."

"Because that was the door to the dungeons, unless you've redecorated or moved the tea rooms, which would be a bad choice of location for the tea rooms, far too damp and dark and-"

"Iracebeth."

The realisation hit hard: he had imprisoned the crazy Red Queen and Sarah had just gone and stormed straight into her cell.

"That wasn't the word I was going for, but yes," Tarrant nodded, smiling widely, but Jareth was already gone, dignity as forgotten as the ring that that Sarah had dropped, the plastic piece of costume jewellery rolling to a halt by the Hatter's feet and he bent to pick it up, placing it in a pocket and began to search for more shortbread to share while they waited.

Jareth never heard Alice ask if they should go after him and help, or Tarrant's reply that they had already played their part for this act.


End file.
